Assault or Attrition

by Blake Northcott

  As the shouting and accusations persisted, I noticed London float into the room, hovering to a stop just a few feet away. It waited for me to turn and acknowledge its presence before delivering a message. “Mister Moxon,” London chirped, with a song in its digital voice. “I have a few things I’d like to tell you.”

  “Go right ahead,” I prompted, squeezing my eyes tight as I massaged my forehead. Anything to create a diversion at this point was more than welcome.

  “You look absolutely fantastic today,” London declared. “As far as organic-based life forms are concerned, you appear clean, well-attired, and your face is quite attractive – stunningly symmetrical by all accounts.”

  “Thank you,” I said awkwardly. London was still programmed to shower me with random compliments, and they were getting more obscure by the day. It seemed like the A.I. was constantly trying to come up with fresh observations, but it was clearly running out of options. “I’ll take it,” I replied with a shrug. “Anything else going on in The Fortress that’s newsworthy at the moment...besides my symmetry?”

  “Oh, Yes indeed, Mister Moxon,” London cheerfully continued. “There is a breach in The Fortress. Six unidentified intruders have entered through the South Tunnel, and are making their way towards the main corridor.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Holy shit!” Brynja shouted. “Maybe you should have opened with that?”

  “London,” I said quickly, “cam view of the South Tunnel, now.”

  The orange spheres flattened and expanded into a floating window, and the feed blinked to life. Six men dressed in winter camouflage – carrying some serious military hardware – sprinted down the long white corridor, directly towards the Fortress.

  “How did they get in?” Peyton asked.

  “Through the door,” London replied matter-of-factly.

  Brynja groaned and smacked the hovering orange screen, tilting it off its axis. “How did they open the goddamned door?”

  It floated back into position before replying, “By using a ten-digit access code.”

  The entrance to the South Tunnel is several kilometers from the fortress in a densely forested area. There’s no path, no signs, and no markings to identify its location. And the actual door that leads to the tunnel is cleverly camouflaged, accessible only by navigating through the mouth of a narrow cave. Not something you’d randomly discover while out on a stroll.

  Footprints could have been a giveaway, but there had been heavy snowfall since Valentina, Peyton and Mac snuck in. And even if they had been tracked, the Red Army would have certainly used the pathway before now. No one could have stumbled upon this secret entrance by pure coincidence – they were given directions.

  London explained that the interior door was locked, and that even when the intruders reached it they’d need some significant firepower to blast it open. I remotely changed the pass-code, but wasn’t sure how much time it would buy us. The oversized circular door was secure enough for the moment, though it had nowhere near the defensive capabilities of the fortress’ exterior. The Red Army was getting in – it was just a matter of time.

  Peyton, Brynja and I suited up in our Smart Fiber armor, and were selecting weapons when my wrist-com chimed. It was Valentina.

  “You and Peyton need to see this,” she cried in a thin, panicky voice. “It’s Gavin.”

  Before I could reply Peyton was sprinting towards Valentina in the central hub, triggered by the sound of her brother’s name. I screamed at her to stop but she’d already rounded the corner. I followed as quickly as possible, machine gun in-hand, unable to warn her of the trap she was about to walk into.

  I raced into the central hub seconds after Peyton had arrived, where Valentina was seated comfortably. She was lounging on the pristine white couch that formed a semi-circle around a wide glass table, drink in-hand. Her demeanor was calm, relaxed – miles from the panic-stricken voice we’d heard just moments before.

  “What is this?” Peyton asked, stopping just short of the table.

  Valentina stood, taking her time to flatten out her skirt and adjust her tailored jacket. She replied with a single word: “Doors.”

  At her command the four entrances to the circular white room were swiftly blocked with steel blast shields, gliding into place and locking with a hydraulic hiss. We were trapped.

  The breach in security was my first indication of Valentina’s betrayal. Not the breach itself, or even the fact that the Red Army had received a pass code from someone within The Fortress – the mole could have been anyone, including the cleaning staff. It was the timing: how long it must have taken for London to locate me and relay the information – long before Valentina, my head of security, had detected the intruders. If anyone had broken in she would have been the first to know, and I should have been the second. And her panic-stricken voice was so out of character that I knew she had either cracked under pressure, or was putting on a performance. After a lengthy tour in an African warzone, I didn’t take Valentina for the cracking type.

  “Can I interest either of you in a bottle of water?” She motioned nonchalantly towards the stainless steel fridge built into the wall of the room. I could see through the translucent door that it was freshly stocked, as it always was, with over a hundred bottles of natural spring water. It became obvious why she’d selected this particular room to lock us in.

  Peyton’s eyes darted nervously between me and our captor. “What’s happening here?”

  “We’ve been sold out,” I replied without averting my eyes from Valentina. “Care to tell me how much?”

  “Eleven million,” she said flatly. “Thirteen if I include Peyton in the package.”

  “Not a round number,” I noted. “Did you have to do much negotiating?”

  Valentina smirked and laced her fingers together, cracking her knuckles overhead with an exaggerated stretch. “A little. Russian’s are tough negotiators – even the pre-teen ones, apparently. There’s a catch, though.”

  “You need us alive,” I added. It’s why Valeriya didn’t take out the entire fortress when she had the chance – using her suicide bomber to implode the entire compound. This was personal, and I was far more valuable in one piece.

  She nodded, ever so slightly, and circled around the table towards Peyton.

  “I think you can stop right there.” I leveled my weapons and activated the power core with the flick of my finger, spooling up the energy with a low hum. It was the equivalent of cocking the hammer of a six-shooter in the Old West – completely unnecessary, but the satisfying sound sent a message loud and clear.

  Valentina scoffed. “Or what, ‘God Slayer’? You’ll shoot me?”

  “Open the doors,” I ordered, pressing the stock of the machine gun into my shoulder. I lowered my head slightly, peering down the length of the sight.

  “No,” she replied with a caustic sneer, taunting me like a petulant child.

  “Matt,” Peyton urged, her widened eyes shrink-wrapped in tears. “please do it.”

  I considered pulling the trigger in that moment, and then ran every possible scenario through in my mind. Valentina never liked me, and never made any attempt to pretend otherwise – but she loved money. I could offer to outbid The Red Army, buy her back to my side...although that would leave her with nowhere to turn. She had to choose a side, and she had already made her decision. I had to assume that this was a little personal on Valentina’s end as well: cash a huge paycheck while sticking it to her boss – someone she’d spent the last six months resenting. It was too tempting an offer to pass up.

  I didn’t know if I had it in me. The resolve to end someone else’s life with the simple squeeze of my finger. All the death and destruction I’d seen in the Arena came flooding back, washing over my memory. The gruesome slideshow of assorted horrors flicked by as a cold bead of sweat formed in my hairline. I blinked hard, steeling my resolve.

  The diminutive redhead took a threatening step towards me, hands spread wide. “He
wouldn’t dare, Peyton. He’s weak. Moxon acts like this big man, ready to kick ass and take names, but when push comes to shove, he’s nothing but a scared little fa—”

  Valentina’s words were cut off by a hailstorm of bullets slicing through her body, tearing her suit to pieces. I held the trigger in place until the thirty-round magazine had emptied into her chest and abdomen, puncturing ragged holes through her body so wide I could see clear through.

  She didn’t fall over.

  She didn’t even bleed.

  Through her torn jacket and shredded blouse the wounds mended themselves; millions of water droplets converging into a gyrating, transparent form. The flesh-colored tone returned as the reconstruction completed, leaving no trace that any damage had been done.

  She glanced down at her bare midriff, and then back at me. “I’m billing you for the suit.”

  With an extended palm she reached towards the fridge. The door sailed open and the bottles flew across the room; they burst open in unison, forming a pair of massive liquid tendrils. The lassoes were extensions of her arms, lashing out and coiling around me, and then Peyton. They tightened until we were locked into place, from our necks to our ankles, powerless to move in straightjackets made of water.

  Valentina glanced at her wrist-com while maintaining control of her water streams. “I figure you have about ten, maybe fifteen minutes. If you want to beg or make me a better offer, this is your chance.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Peyton whispered.

  “You’re right,” Valentina replied. “But I really, really want to. I gave your boyfriend here every chance to increase my pay, give me a bonus. He just wouldn’t listen to reason.” She laughed and shook her head. With a sharp tug she pulled me closer, the liquid lasso constricting even tighter around my ribcage, causing me to hack out a painful cough. “I’m surprised you didn’t see this coming, smart guy. Me, stabbing you in the back. You, being stuck here without a weapon. Now you and your girlfriend are going to die in those ridiculous matching suits.”

  “I’ve been onto you for a while,” I whispered, struggling to speak as the watery coils constricted around my ribcage. I didn’t know for sure – I couldn’t – but just in case my suspicions about Valentina were correct, there was a feature that I’d quietly added to the armored suits for an emergency situation. Ever since I heard that an African warlord had paid her in blood money I knew the possibility of betrayal was on the table, and if that day ever came I wanted to be prepared; I figured it was better to have a weapon and not need it than to need a weapon and not have it.

  I glanced down at my immobilized arms, and Valentina’s jaw fell slack as the voice-activated command escaped my lips. “Stun guns.”

  The electrical charge shot through my gauntlets and into the water, giving me a small jolt. The Smart Fiber suit protected me from the shock, as it was designed to do. My former bodyguard wasn’t so fortunate. Five million volts of electricity coursed through the watery tendril and into her nervous system, forcing her into fits of convulsions. Peyton took my cue and activated her stun guns a moment later, compounding the effect.

  Valentina flew backwards, landing on the table in the center of the room. The splashing water that surrounded her was shot through with a crimson plume when the glass surface shattered.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Peyton and I raced back towards The Vault. It was a relatively short distance but my legs ached, and the build-up of lactic acid burned my thighs. I stopped and used the wall for support, gasping for air as I bent at the waist.

  Peyton froze mid-stride when she realized I was no longer following behind. She came to my side and rubbed her hand from the base of my neck down the length of my back. “Matty, are you all right?” Through the Smart Fiber suit I couldn’t feel the warmth of her hand, though the gesture calmed my nerves.

  Hunched over, I watched as a bead of perspiration dropped from my hairline to the toe of my boot. “I’m a little more out of shape than I thought,” I panted. “No big deal.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” she replied softly.

  “I know what you meant.” I’ve killed before, and every time it was justified – the only option left on the table. At least that’s what I kept telling myself. Valentina forced my hand, and I reacted with the safeguard I’d put in place for just that occasion. I’d pictured that scenario – or at least a variation of it – when I first suspected she might betray me. It just seemed more humane in my imagination. Watching the reddened water pool around her body and the shards of glass protruding from her abdomen...it brought everything swarming back. I stood upright and pressed my back against the wall. “When she hit the table, it reminded me—”

  Peyton cupped my face in her hands. “I know.” She pulled me closer until our bodies met, throwing her arms around me as I buried my face into her neck.

  My sister. My niece and nephew. Gavin. Peyton. This wasn’t going to end until I’ve seen them all suffer the same fate as Valentina: lying prone, cold and bloodstained, with their glassy eyes rolled into their sockets. Gary was just the beginning, I was sure of it. And I would be powerless, as I always was, to do anything about it.

  As I caught my breath, it also occurred to me that comic books had been lying to me. While Iron Man and Batman had billions of dollars at their disposal, all of the money and high-tech gadgets in the world couldn’t compare to an actual superpower; a fact that was made abundantly clear when I’d barely escaped with my life. I was one malfunction away. One glitch in my armor’s stun guns, and it would have been over – Peyton and I would be in the hands of the Red Army.

  “We’ll make it out of this,” she whispered, so close I could feel the heat of her breath, lips gently brushing my cheek. “We’re survivors. I know you’re scared, but I’m here for you.”

  “I’m not afraid,” I lied. “I’m fine.” I drew back when I heard a group of footsteps clanking around the corner. Brynja, Chandler and Mac were suited up, fitted into their Smart Fiber armor, clutching machine guns they’d chosen from the armory. The two floating orange spheres tethered by a long cord followed, hovering at their backs.

  They’d seen the events of the last few minutes unfold on a video feed; everything from Valentina’s speech, to her ultimate demise. They offered a few kind words, and London remarked that I looked particularly heroic during the altercation – noting that my recent haircut came across very well on the video.

  While I appreciated the sentiment, I’d already wasted too much time. We had just minutes left until the main fortress was breached, and my friends were looking to me for answers. The army that Valentina had let in the back door were on their way – there was no way to stop them. Our only options were to run, or try to hold our ground against several thousand armed militants.

  Mac quickly suggested that we make a run for the hangar; we could take one of the more heavily armored aircraft and attempt an escape.

  “Let’s do it,” Brynja quickly agreed. “Come on, we can be there in five.”

  “What about the staff?” Peyton pleaded. “We don’t even know where they are. What if they don’t make it in time?”

  “What if we don’t make it in time?” Brynja replied. “If we go now we cut our losses. If we stick around we all die.”

  Chandler continually wiped his palms against his legs, unable to keep still. “We can’t evacuate without all the...everyone. Present. And accounted for. It’s procedure.”

  “I’m with Blue,” Mac blurted out, gesturing towards Brynja. “She’s right – we make a run now, and—”

  “Forget the hangar,” I interrupted. “Valeriya would have thought of that.” It was the most obvious route for escape, which is why it wasn’t going to work. She would expect us to use a jet, and would no doubt be prepared to slice it down the moment we took flight. She had at least one superhuman at her disposal, and who knows how much artillery.

  I paced the hallway for a moment, massaging my forehead. No one spoke. They allowed me a wid
e berth and pressed their backs against the walls, exchanging awkward glances as I passed them. That’s when it hit me. “London, what’s the most heavily armored place in this fortress?”

  The spheres projected a holographic rendering of Fortress 23, with a detailed layout of every floor, from top to bottom. Within the glowing blue framework a long, narrow shaft was highlighted in red, descending several stories lower than the deepest subterranean level.

  “Where the hell is that?” Brynja asked, stepping closer to scrutinize the map.

  “And why have we never seen it before?” I added.

  “As usual,” London chirped, “a brilliant and wonderfully conceived query, Mister Moxon. This area is not accessible from the main elevator. It was concealed by Mister Frost until construction could be completed.”

  “Construction?” Chandler asked. He knew every square inch of Fortress 23 – or so he thought – and was clearly perplexed at the notion that there was an area he was unfamiliar with.

  “According to my files,” London explained, “the project has been codenamed ‘The Spiral’. A secondary construction crew has been accessing the area through a six-mile tunnel that runs West of Fortress 23. Their contract was terminated automatically in the event of Mister Frost’s death, and their work ceased.”

  “This is it,” Peyton said brightly. “We go down to this Spiral room, run out the tunnel and we’re free.”

  Mac smiled, clapping his hand victoriously. “This place is huge; those jackasses will spend hours tearing it apart before they even know we’re gone. I know a pilot in Vancouver who could be here within the hour: we let him get close enough, give him the coordinates and he picks us up in a forest clearing, well out of range from the Red Army’s weapons.”

  I nodded slowly, cautiously weighing the options. “All right, but let’s not break out the champagne just yet. I want everyone prepared for a worst-case scenario. There could be patrols on the other end of this tunnel, and if we run into resistance I want our asses covered.”